


and you are the light (to a lonesome shadow)

by petvampire



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Book 4: House of Hades, Drabble, Implied Jason feelings, M/M, Nico is still hella in denial, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:25:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1446748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petvampire/pseuds/petvampire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico isn't afraid of the dark. But he still has nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and you are the light (to a lonesome shadow)

Nico isn't afraid of the dark.

He knows the dark; he knows shadows, travels in them, treats them as friends. There is a part of him that's given over to them, he knows, the price he pays for doing what he does, for slipping between life and the Underworld so often. The darkness is _familiar_ , and he can wrap it around himself, bask in it like any other person might sunlight.

So when he wakes up gasping with a scream caught in his throat in a black, airless cabin, he knows it isn't the dark.

It's remembering. It's days trapped in a jar barely big enough for a human body; it's days suspended in a state close to death. It's a lack of oxygen, the knowledge of being trapped and used for bait, used to bring people he  _cares_ about to their deaths. Even now, knowing, logically, that he's far from that, that he's been rescued, that everyone –  _almost everyone_ – is still safe and alive, he can't shake it. He doesn't sleep much, because when he does,  _this_ is the result.

He stumbles up to the deck of the Argo II, desperate for fresh air, something to wash the stale taste of death and fear and Tartarus out of his mouth. Not that he's any more comfortable there, even with the open stretch of sky above him. This place isn't a home for him like it is for the others; it isn't meant for him. He's not one of the seven. Even though two are gone, dropped into the pit to try to find the Doors of Death, he can't take their place. He refuses to try.

He stays away from the helm, doesn't want the usual sarcastic comments from Leo or tongue-lashing about a curfew from Coach Hedge. He considers climbing up into the rigging, even though there's nothing to watch for right now. It's far enough away, up there, with nothing but open air. Children of Hades are supposed to be most comfortable with the underground, but Nico still feels like he's suffocating even within four man-made walls. He'll take the heights, as far up as he can climb, separating himself. Like he can leave the nightmares behind if he goes far enough.

There's no chance, though. He hears footsteps behind him, and he knows who they belong to even before the familiar voice comes. He doesn't need to turn to look. 

Only one person has been dogging his steps ever since Croatia. One person who's been hovering, like he feels some need to  _look out for him_ , like Nico needs his  _protection_ . The golden boy keeps telling him to just talk to the rest of the demigods, the rest of the people who are actually  _supposed_ to be here, on this quest. Nico is only here because he made a promise. He'll keep that – and then, nothing.

No one else needs to know anything. Not about him, not about his nightmares.

Jason Grace doesn't need to know any more than he already does.

“Are you all right?” He doesn't look like he's been sleeping, either, but other than the shadows under his eyes and his slightly rumpled appearance, like he tried to go to bed and failed, he still looks fine. Healthy. Not pale and wan and wasted, not like Nico. He probably doesn't ever have nightmares. He probably doesn't have anything to be afraid of.

“Fine.” Nico turns away, moves to edge past him. He has nowhere to go, but he doesn't want to have this conversation, either. 

Jason blocks his path. He has the height and the breadth to do it, making Nico feel hemmed in even on the open deck. Not claustrophobic, not trapped, but... stuck. It's a different sense, one that inspires annoyance, not fear. “You're not fine. Have you slept at all in the last couple of days?”

“Why does it matter to you?” The words are vehement, but quiet; he doesn't want to attract more attention. This is already more than he wants to cope with. “It's not your job to look after me. You're not my sister.” There's an old bitterness in his tone, a wound that has never quite healed. Because he has Hazel, yes, but... 

Jason, damn him, just looks  _hurt_ . “I know that. But I thought I was your friend.”

And it's that sort of thing, how casual he is, like by being so openly accepting of Nico he can somehow  _make_ him think everyone else will be the same way. Like he can make that happen by sheer force of will. He's a praetor still at heart, a son of Jupiter, a leader. He thinks just because he believes something,  _does_ something, that everyone else will follow. That things will just fall into place.

He says  _friend_ like that's a gift, like his friendship can fix everything. It's not that easy.

“Just get out of my way, Grace.” He tries again to step around him, and this time Jason puts a hand on his shoulder, and Nico stiffens, pulls back. He doesn't like being touched; it's a trust thing, which especially now, now that he _knows_ , Jason should understand. He's so sure that every damned thing he does is right, though, and his grip is firm, unyielding. Very Roman, Nico thinks irreverently.

“I know you have nightmares.” He says it softly, almost apologetically. The tone does nothing to mitigate Nico's fury, and he shoves Jason's hand off his shoulder, glaring. “And how exactly do you _know_ that?”

The son of Jupiter looks slightly confused, and then guilty, and absolutely none of that makes Nico soften, makes him any  _less_ angry. “I wanted to check up on you, make sure you were doing all right. I do the same for everyone,” he hastened to reassure, although it didn't help; the others had actual cabins, had privacy. Nico had refused to use one of the currently vacant spaces, so he had – whatever niche he could find, the common areas. Nowhere that he could keep anyone out of. It wasn't the same thing, it was an invasion of what limited privacy he had. Jason ought to know that.

“You were talking in your sleep.” His voice goes even softer, like he's trying to make absolutely certain that no one else can overhear, although they're far enough from the helm that there's no risk of that. “About... about Tartarus. The things you saw there... the dark.” He looks uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other and reaching into his pocket, pulling out something – the stub of a candle, a stunted little thing of wax and wick. “It's something I've always heard, a superstition.” There's a flicker of a smile; in their world, their lives, there's almost nothing like an idle superstition. Everything comes from _somewhere_ , some small kernel of truth. “Keeping a candle burning keeps nightmares away. Just take it,” he adds, unhesitating, pressing the candle into Nico's hand.

He opens his mouth to shoot make some scathing retort, but Jason is just... walking away, just leaving him there on the deck, candle in hand, nothing to argue with but the wind.

And it's  _stupid_ , that Jason has been checking up on him like that, that he knows even more now that he isn't supposed to, too much of Nico's life that's  _not his business_ and has somehow become it. It's idiotic, that he thinks, in a time like this when they're fighting for their lives, that some proclamation of friendship and the stub of a candle can somehow make things better, make them easier. Like they can chase the nightmares away, just because he  _says_ they can.

It's pointless. After all, Nico isn't even afraid of the dark.

But he slinks back belowdecks, back to the niche he's made for himself, the shallow excuse for a home. And he lights the candle – not because he believes what Jason says, or anything. It's just because he needs the light. Because it's dark, and because there's nothing else to do, and because he wants to prove him wrong, he keeps the candle burning.

And he sleeps.


End file.
